


Prize Ship

by NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, F/M, Lieutenant Duckling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-20 12:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6005341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable/pseuds/NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the height of the war, Lieutenant Killian Jones captures an enemy ship, and discovers Crown Princess Emma Swan aboard. Which is more important: love or loyalty?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shot Across the Bow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my Captain Swan Secret Valentine gift to feeling-quilly - the summary is all her prompt. I admit, I had a lot more fun with it than I thought I would, and it kind of spiraled into an adventurous multichapter. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my world. Just my imagination borrowing them for a bit.

“Prepare to go aboard!”

Lieutenant Killian Jones heard the warning from the Captain as he steadied his grip on the ropes, balancing almost effortlessly on the narrow rail of the _Jewel,_ prepared for the jump across ships. Sword drawn, the comforting weight of his loaded firearm at his side, he turned to the group of men assigned to his command.

“Ready your weapons!” he shouted.

The sound of two dozen swords being unsheathed rang out against the noise of battle. Cannon fire echoed around them as the enemy ship desperately tried to fight them off.  The war had been going on for nearly ten years, this ship just one of many that had been captured by both sides, but Killian knew that this time it was different.  It had always been just a matter of time before his king managed to finally subdue their enemies in the kingdom of Misthaven, but this ship was told to contain valuable information - the location of an item that could help the Enchanted Forest finally win the war.  

Both crews knew that as they fought fiercely on the decks of the _Yellow Beetle **.**_ Blood covered the wooden planks, severed limbs and ghastly wounds from cannon fire contributing to most of the carnage, though a hefty bit came from the violent hand-to-hand combat that was being waged on the enemy ship.

It was a losing battle, Killian knew, but not for his king.  Not this time.

With this secret information, they would finally hold the key to defeating the usurping kingdom once and for all.  

This was the battle that mattered.

The two ships ground against each other, crossing boards straining and groaning over the sounds of shouting and clanging weapons.  The cannons had stopped just then - no doubt there were no remaining crew members left to load and fire the heavy artillery - but still the Misthaven soldiers fought back.  The first two boarding parties had already crossed to the other ship, taking down most of the enemy sailors.  Killian’s job was to secure the ship - and her precious cargo - before hauling the captured prize ship back to familiar territory to hand over to the Admiralty, and King James.

It was one of his favourite jobs.

Killian had done this dozens of times before, yet each time it was just as thrilling as the first, this one even more so with the importance of the cargo at stake.  The rush of fear battled the race of excitement in his veins, his muscles tensed in anticipation of a fight, and he couldn’t help the grin that plastered itself across his face.  

He was ready.

“BOARD!” Killian yelled, leading the charge to the other ship.  He rushed across, nimbly grabbing the previously anchored ropes as he made his way to the _Beetle_ ’s deck.  His men followed, their swords swinging as they quickly joined their fellow sailors in battle.  Few men remained on the disabled _Beetle_ , but those few fought valiantly, and it took all of them together to finally subdue the last of the crew.

Breathing hard, Killian found the extra ropes and helped his men restrain the living from among the _Beetle_ ’s crew, tying the knots with quick efficiency.  He stood, wiping the sweat and blood from his brow with his elbow.  Not his blood, thankfully; his only "injury” was a torn coat sleeve where the swing of a blade had missed his skin, taking thick blue fabric instead and leaving him unmarked.  

Not all his men were so fortunate.  Sykes had a gash across one leg, Wallace had been stabbed through the abdomen - a fatal wound, poor lad - and Billy was bleeding profusely from a blow to the face.  He sent two junior officers back to the _Jewel of the Realm_ to fetch the surgeon and alert the Captain that it was all clear to come aboard.

 _The Captain_ , he thought, his focus returning after the near instinctual frenzy of the fight.  

He found an officer tied to the grate near the gangway, his eyes flashing angrily as he kneeled imprisoned beside his men.  Killian crouched beside the enemy Lieutenant.

“Where’s your Captain?” he asked, his voice low.

The man grunted and shook his head.

“Dead,” the Lieutenant replied bitterly.  “He was cut down in the second volley.”

One of the younger midshipmen approached Killian just then, his face pale, entire body twitching nervously.   _First battle_ , Killian thought, briefly recalling his own first fight.  The gore wasn’t the worst part of such an encounter.  It was the screams of the dying and injured as they lay about the deck awaiting their turn to be treated.

“Lieutenant,” stammered the boy.  “We found the captain, sir.  He’s, well, uh…” he trailed off nervously, fingers twisting in his dress shirt.

“What is it, Stephens?” Killian asked as he stood.

“He’s dead, sir.  In at least two pieces.  Malcolm is searching for his legs, but...”

The trembling child looked as if he was about to throw up or pass out, or both.  Killian patted his shoulder.  Stephens had proven to be a fine midshipmen since he came aboard, a strong leader of the other boys - fair, firm, kind - but he had never seen the raw ugliness of battle before.  “Thank you, Stephens,” he said softly.  “Go back to the _Jewel,_ and get the boys to start cleaning down the guns.”  A distraction from the horrors of war would do him good.

Stephens nodded gratefully and scurried off with a muttered, “Aye, aye.”

Killian sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

 _So the Captain’s dead,_ he thought.   _Guess I’ll have to find the cargo myself._

Footsteps behind him made him turn.  His Captain stood before him, just stepping off the planks running from the other ship.  He saluted quickly, standing at attention.

“Captain,” he nodded.

His brother returned the gesture.  “Lieutenant.”  Captain Liam Jones stepped closer, taking in the state of the _Beetle_ in a brief glance.  He was good at that, taking in a lot of information with one look, processing it quickly and efficiently for later.

“Captain’s dead, Liam,” Killian said quietly.  His brother had given him permission to address him so informally, as long as the other men weren’t around.  “We need to get the log books and find what we need as fast as possible,” he said.  “The longer we wait, the greater chance someone will hide it, or destroy it altogether.  Do you know where they’d hide the information?”

“I assume it would be written in one of the logs, but there might be a secret log stashed elsewhere on the ship that would have the location.  Have you checked the rest of the ship?”  Liam asked.  

Killian shook his head.  “Not yet, we’re just securing the prisoners.  I’ll take a few of the men below to search for it there.  You’ve got the deck, Captain.”

Liam nodded.  “Well done, Lieutenant,” he said, a quick smile lighting up his face before vanishing as he resumed his ‘Captain’s glare’, as Killian called it privately.

The younger Jones smirked and turned to gather his crew.

The battle was over, but the search was just beginning.

* * *

It was quiet.  

Emma knew that was a bad sign.  Victory would have been met with cheers and celebration, the wounded carried below deck to be tended properly as the officers celebrated with a drink fetched from the cramped storage room in which she hid.

Not this silence.

 _Now what?_ she wondered.  She knew the prevailing sailors would soon search the ship, but there was nowhere else to hide on the small vessel.  She rummaged quickly through the bag she had dragged down to the hold with her and grabbed the small wooden box that had been entrusted to her care, securing its strap to her wrist as she gripped the sides tightly in her palm.  

From now on, this box wouldn’t leave her hand.

With the other hand, Emma felt the embroidered clasp on her cloak, checking to see that it held securely.  That done, she then tugged on her belt at the sword she’d strapped there at the first sign of battle.  The blade had been a gift from her father on her 15th birthday, and she never travelled without it.

She needed to come up with some escape plan, but the silence was disconcerting, the light tingling of nerves in her belly growing with each passing moment, distracting her.   _Come on, think!_

Emma spotted a doorway on the side of the ladder, hidden behind large boxes and neat piles of coiled rope.  She cautiously climbed across to them, careful not to lose the box in her hand, and touched it.  It opened slowly outward and she could see a long passageway extending all the way to the front of the ship.  A plan started to form in her mind and she smiled in anticipation as she climbed back over the cargo to where her bag lay and crouched beside a massive crate.

“Let the search begin,” she whispered.

* * *

Killian cautiously made his way down the ladders of the _Beetle **,**_ his sword drawn and ready in his fist.  He’d divided up the ship into sections, assigning each of his men a different area to search.  They were to report all the cargo and personnel they found and, once completed, begin moving all the ship’s books and containers over to the _Jewel,_ anything that couldn’t be searched quickly while they were still on board.  He knew Liam was anxious to get back to the Enchanted Forest, to bring the prize in for closer examination.  

Killian personally chose the lowest hold, hoping the _Beetle_ ’s Captain had thought to bury his treasure as deeply as possible in the bowels of his ship.  He climbed down the last of the ladders onto the boards of the hull.

He stepped out slowly, the darkened area lit only by the open hatch above him.  This would be the most obvious place to hide extra soldiers, he knew, which was the other reason he volunteered to search this area.  He was the better swordsman of his company - a fact, not pride - and he would never willingly endanger one of his crew to a potential threat lurking in shadows.

He listened, waiting.

Nothing.

With a sigh, Killian lowered his sword and went to the stack of barrels in the corner.   _Better get these documented and sent across,_ he thought with a sigh.  He was about to sheath his blade when he heard it - a gentle rustling near the farthest section of the hold.  He slipped closer as silently as he could manage, gripping the sword once more.  

The rustling grew louder.

Killian took another step.  He still couldn’t see what could be making the noise, the dim light too dark to make out much of anything this far below deck.   _It could just be a rat_ , he assured himself, swallowing the fluttering of fear that crept up his spine.

He was so focused on the noise in the corner that he failed to see the person come crashing into him from the other side.  He spun in an instant, sword useless against the attacker, who was wrapped around him.

“This ship is now propert-” he started, looking down at the figure against his chest.  Words fully escaped him as he realized who it was.

 _A woman_ , he gasped silently.  Not just any woman. _Her._

She blinked up at him, her golden hair pulled from her face, green eyes flashing even in darkness.

Before he could react, her lips crashed into his, her feet reaching on tiptoes to match his height.  Stunned, he couldn’t think, his mind going completely blank as sparks raced from her kiss throughout his entire body.  Her soft mouth pressed against his, her tongue lightly pushing past his lips and into his mouth.  He gasped into her, but she didn’t pull away, her hand coming up to touch his chest, running her fingers up toward his neck.  He wanted nothing more than to kiss her back, to stay locked in her embrace, her warmth, for as long as he could, but he had no idea what was going on.

After a moment, he pulled his head back, breaking away from her.  His lips felt swollen and his head spun drunkenly.  Her mouth glistened in the dimness, eyes sparkling with the hint of a smile.

“What the hell was that?” he whispered hoarsely.

“Distraction,” she murmured softly, a beautiful grin stretching across her face.

He didn’t see her arm swing up at his side, failed to notice the small box clutched in her hand or the direction her fist was aimed.

All he felt was the collision of the hard wood with the side of his head as stars burst behind his eyes, and he knew no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a lot of research on naval history and prize captures in the 18th century, and I had an absolute blast doing it. I took a few liberties with the layout of the ships, which I hope you can forgive, and I'm sure there are still some anachronistic and historical errors, for which I apologise. This is already mostly written, so it should be up as soon as I have time to finish editing.


	2. Seize and Capture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like cliffhangers, which is the only reason I split these first two chapters up. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my world. Just my imagination borrowing them for a bit.

He was heavy.  Heavier than he looked.  

Emma had snaked her left hand behind his head to catch his fall somewhat, but she wasn’t prepared for just how much he actually weighed.  She nearly toppled over beside him as she tried not to let him hit the floor too hard.  She winced inwardly - even in the dark she could see the slow trickle of blood from his temple, and the area around it was already starting to bruise.

His breathing was slow and even, and she let out her own pent up breath of relief with a sigh.  She had no intention of killing anyone, least of all the capable and surprisingly handsome Lieutenant of the _Jewel_ , but she needed to escape and this was the only way.

She waited a moment to catch her breath.  Her lips still buzzed from the kiss a minute ago, the taste of him in her mouth.   _Not a bad kiss_ , she admitted as she watched him sleep, his dark hair falling across his face, making him look very… young.  He’d have quite the headache when he awoke but he should be fine, she reassured herself.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, as she slipped past him into the doorway she had seen earlier.  

Following the hull of the small ship, she sped through the passageway to just below the cannons.  The ladder at her right led directly to the gun deck, and she could tell from the straining of the wood that the _Beetle_ was still roped tightly to the _Jewel_.  She climbed the ladder cautiously, her hand still gripping the box tightly, and peered over the top rung.

Empty.

 _Good_.

She sped up the last few steps and nearly _flew_ to the short line of cannons at the edge of the wall.  The gunports were open, the large artillery still aimed directly into the _Jewel_ ’s guns.  The two cannons nearly bumped each other in the gentle rocking motion of the ships tied together on the open ocean.

Emma wrapped her skirts and the extra material of her cloak around her arm and carefully climbed atop one of the heavy iron cannons.  Breathing slowly to calm herself, she slid slowly toward the mouth of the gun and through the narrow gunport.  She could touch the _Jewel_ ’s gun from here, the opening around it even larger than the one she had just passed through.  

 _Don’t look down_.  

With a quick jump, she managed to cross the narrow gap and slipped aboard the other ship’s cannon, the iron still warm from the recent engagement.  She climbed through the gunport and looked around.  A few cabin boys were cleaning out the guns at the other end of the line, but they hadn’t noticed her.  

Moving silently, she raced along the hull to a ladder leading downward.  She didn’t remember her feet touching a single step as she ran, desperate to get to a new hiding place aboard this unfamiliar ship.  Emma hoped her assessment was correct, that they’d neglect to check their own ship for any suspicious travellers.  She found a dark corner of the hold behind some musty ropes and spare boxes, stifling a sneeze as she slipped behind them.

Finally concealed, she allowed herself to relax somewhat, her head falling limply against the hull as she forced herself to breathe as quietly as possible.  

Now all she had to do was wait.

* * *

 

Liam tossed the bloody cloth into the pail of water on the floor and dragged his sleeve across his eyes.  Killian was asleep on his bunk, his head wrapped with a clean bandage, the white of the cloth standing out starkly against his dark hair.  He’d been found in the hold of the _Beetle_ a few hours ago, blood covering the side of his face and neck, and, for a moment, Liam had been terrified that he’d lost his little brother in this all-too-long war.  But the gentle rise and fall of Killian’s chest had proven otherwise, and after a quick cleaning, he could see the source of the bleeding - a short gash just inside his hairline, atop a nice-sized lump.  

Killian had been rendered unconscious deliberately.  

 _But by whom?_ Liam wondered again, scrubbing his hands across his face.

He didn’t think Killian needed stitching, the cut was small enough that it should heal fine on its own.  He’d offered to take care of it himself, letting the surgeon deal with the more severe wounds from the battle earlier.

A groan just then interrupted his worrying thoughts and he turned to the bed.  Killian was waking up, his eyes squeezed tightly as he reached a hand up to hold his head.

“Easy there, little brother,” Liam said gently.  “You’ve been out for quite some time.”

Killian slowly rolled on his side and propped himself on an elbow, another groan escaping as he squinted open his eyes.

“Ugh,” he managed eloquently.

Liam reached over and grabbed the pail.  “Need a bucket?” he offered.

His brother started to shake his head but thought better of the movement and grunted out a “no” before collapsing back on the pillows, his hand covering the bandaged wound.

“What happened?” Liam asked leaning forward.

Killian swallowed hard.  “I found someone hiding in the hold,” he whispered between clenched teeth, his eyes closed tightly against the pain and bright light.  “She hit me.”

“She?”  No respectable warship travelled with female passengers - at least, no respectable women anyway.

“Aye.”  Killian took a deep breath and pushed himself up to sitting, sliding back to rest his head against the wall.  He was pale, but not quite as deathly pale as he’d been a few hours ago.

“We saw no sign of anyone in the hold,” Liam said.  The crew had scoured every inch of the ship, looking for both Killian's attacker and the required item.  Liam had personally gone through that hold himself, but found nothing.

The younger Jones rubbed his palm into his eye and winced as he looked at his brother through his half-open right eye.  “And the rest of the ship?” he asked.

“No women, and so far, no location either.”  Liam stood and went to the pitcher of drinking water on his desk, pouring some in a cup which he passed to his brother.  “We moved as much of the cargo over as we could, we need to get it documented at some point.”  He motioned to the stack of books that were scattered across every other surface of the room.  “I’ve been going through the logs while you slept, but I can’t seem to find any sign of what we’re looking for.”

Killian sipped at the water, still squinting as he looked at his Captain.  He passed the cup back and scooted forward to the edge of the bed, clearly preparing to stand.  

“Hey, hey,” Liam said, rushing to his side.  “You shouldn’t get up just yet.”  Part of him knew such an admonition was futile - Killian was the most stubborn man he knew, no one talked him out of doing something once he set his mind to it.  He could count on one hand the amount of times his brother had listened to him to rest when he so clearly needed it, most of them after that particularly brutal beating years ago at the hands of their former quartermaster, before they joined the Navy.  Liam shook his head to clear himself of that memory.

“Have to find her,” Killian slurred.  He wobbled precariously on his feet before sinking back into the mattress with a grunt.

Liam shook his head.  “There’s no way.  We’ve released the grappling already.  We’re towing the _Beetle_ home as we speak.  We should be back in the Enchanted Forest tomorrow morning.”

He put a hand on Killian's shoulder and bent to look him in the eye.  He hated the way his brother's face looked, the purple edges of the bruise peeking it from below the bandage, a pained grimace squinting his eyes mostly closed.  “Stay here,” Liam said.  “Sleep for a bit.  We'll search the _Beetle_ again once we make port, all right?”

A strange look crossed Killian’s face just then, and Liam wasn’t sure if it was disappointment or something else entirely.  His little brother dropped his hand from his forehead to touch his lips, eyes narrowed as he sat still.

“The cargo needs to be catalogued,” he muttered almost to himself as he tried to stand again.  “I need to see to it.”

“Killian,” Liam started with a sigh, reaching a hand to catch his brother’s arm.  “You need to rest.”

Killian blinked up at him.  He was clearly still in pain, the pupils of his usually clear blue eyes blown large and dark even in the glare of evening sunlight, and he was barely turning his head, his movements stiff and awkward.  “I’ll rest, Liam,” he said quietly, “I promise.  But I need to check something first.”

Liam sighed again.  “Fine.  But if I don’t find you in your bunk in an hour, I’ll confine you to your quarters under Captain’s orders.”  He rarely threatened to pull rank on Killian, but his brother needed to take it easy after such an injury.

“Agreed,” the younger Jones answered as he limped slowly to the door, his hand rubbing his head once more.

“Be careful, brother,” Liam called softly.

He heard the whispered reply as Killian left the room.  “I will, brother.”

* * *

 

_She kissed me._

Killian couldn’t seem to get those three words out of his head as he made his way from the Captain’s quarters.  His head throbbed painfully in time with his heartbeat and he could feel the swollen knot at his temple even through the bandage.  He’d managed to swallow the urge to vomit before, but now his stomach rolled alarmingly as he headed down the narrow corridors.

He reached the door to the officer’s quarters, but he didn’t open it.  Instead, he turned toward the ladderway to the gun deck below.

 _I have to find her_ , he thought, _before someone else does._

Killian was certain Liam was correct, that she was no longer aboard the _Beetle_.  But a woman desperate enough to kiss a man in order to distract him was one he couldn’t afford to underestimate.  No doubt she was now concealed in the one place no one would think to look for her.

_Right under our noses._

One hand on his sword, the other gently pressing against the bruise on his head, he swiftly descended into the bottommost section of the _Jewel of the Realm_.

* * *

 

Emma heard footsteps approaching the lowest hold as she tried to squeeze herself deeper into her hiding place.  She’d been able to doze off a bit over the last few hours, but she was still exhausted, fear of being discovered stretching her nerves even thinner than she thought possible.  

And now, someone was coming.

_Great._

She checked her cloak for probably the twentieth time, ensuring it was both secure and firmly wrapped around her, no part of it peeking from behind the row of barrels.  The small box was still tightly wrapped in her fingers.

The footsteps drew closer, the echo of booted heels stepping on wooden planks filling the near silence of the cramped space.  She wished she could stop breathing; the air going in and out was much too loud in her ears.

The sound stopped.

Emma didn’t move, didn’t blink, as she waited for _something_ to happen, hoping the mysterious intruder would turn and leave so she could breathe in peace for the remainder of the trip.   _I’m so close_ , she thought.   _I can’t fail now._

A loud noise nearly made her cry out in surprise.  She bit her lip to keep silent.  The noise continued to her left, the sound of something being dragged across the boards.

Emma looked around.  The area to her right was clear, there was plenty of space for her to slip behind the row of barrels to the other side of the hold.  Slowly, ever so slowly, her back pressed against the wall, she slid up to her feet, the soft swishing of her skirts and cloak undetected against the other noise.  She inched her way against the wall, careful to stay behind the barrels and in the deepest of shadows.

A hand grabbed her arm suddenly, pulling her from her hiding place and spinning her around.  She gasped as cold metal came to rest against her neck.

It was him, the Lieutenant from the _Beetle,_ the one she had knocked out just a few hours ago, his sword pressed against her throat.  She winced when she saw that his head was wrapped with a white cloth, a small dot of red staining through it near the side of his forehead.

“What the hell are you doing aboard this ship?” he demanded.


	3. Breaking Bulk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my world. Just my imagination borrowing them for a bit.

Killian held his sword to the woman’s neck as he gripped her arm tightly, mostly to prevent her from hitting him again.  She didn’t move, her eyes wide in both fear and surprise.  The pain in his head pulsed sharply and he wanted nothing more than to lay down and sleep for the next week straight, but his job, his duty, came first.

“I’ll ask once more” he said roughly.  “What are you doing on this ship, Your Highness?”

She looked startled.  “Y-you know who I am?”

He nodded, then swallowed hard, the nausea still lurking in his gut.  Quick head movements were out of the question, for now.  “Aye, but that’s not what we need to discuss right now, is it?”  He tugged her toward the ladder, and she seemed too shocked to put up a fight.

In the light from above, Killian couldn’t help but notice her striking beauty, the platinum yellow hair and deep green eyes he’d seen earlier just a small part of her alluring attractiveness and grace.  She was dressed plainly, clad in a simple blue dress with a dark cloak wrapped around her shoulders, but the clothes seemed to taunt at a hidden radiance more than they could pretend to be the garb of a commoner.  Her hair was tied in a braided loop against the back of her head, a few golden strands hanging loose against her cheeks.  He could see the slight dimple in her chin, her skin smooth and pale in the dim light.  And her eyes...

He was captivated.

He was in trouble.  

 _She’s the enemy princess!_ he reprimanded himself silently.   _Get a hold of yourself!_

“Let’s go, I need to take you to the Captain.”  He started moving her toward the open hatch, but she resisted.

“Please,” the Princess begged, fear in her eyes.  “Please don’t turn me in.”

“Why on earth not?” he asked.  “We’re in the middle of a war and you’re the Crown Princess of our sworn enemy!  You’re a far more valuable prize than that ship we’re towing.”

“You can’t bring me to them, they’ll-” she cut off, biting her lip as she turned away.

Killian was tired, his head hurt, and he had no patience for politics, but there was something about her, the look in her eyes.  Something frightened her and, from her expression, it was something that should probably scare him, too.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.  Anger never solved anything, he’d learned that the hard way over the years.  “What?” he asked as gently as he could manage.  “What will they do?”

The princess looked back at him, her beautiful eyes glistening with fresh tears.  “They’ll kill us,” she whispered.  “They’ll kill all my people, my entire kingdom.”  A single tear slid down her cheek.

 _That can’t be true_ , he thought.  When he’d been recruited to serve in the Royal Navy years back, he’d been told the true fight was with the king of Misthaven, King David, who’d stolen land from the Enchanted Forest on which to build his kingdom.   _Why would they want to kill everybody?_

“How will turning you in kill everybody?” he asked, careful not to relax his grip on her arm in case she decided to smash him in his already-battered head once more.

She shook her head sadly but said nothing.

Killian pushed the heavy fog from his brain, forcing himself to _think_ as he struggled to put the bits of information together into some coherent picture of what was going on.  The Princess was hiding below decks on the _Beetle_ and then the _Jewel_ , clearly she didn’t want to be found.  And revealing her would cause the immediate death of all her people.

“The location,” he said quietly, the pieces starting to fall into place.  “You carry the location of the item our king seeks.”

She bit her lip hesitantly before nodding, choosing her words carefully before she spoke.  “It’s not just some item,” she whispered.  “It’s a deadly poison that your king wants to use to obliterate everyone in Misthaven.”

Killian’s head spun madly.  His brother was right, he really needed to rest.  Right now, though, he needed to think, but his head pounded painfully, distracting him.   _What if she’s lying?_ he thought.  And then even more chilling, _what if she’s not?_

Could it be true?  Could the secret they were chasing through the realms be a weapon?  Could his king really be that vicious, that he would wipe out an entire kingdom to win an argument?  

“Maybe you should sit down,” she said, eyeing him oddly.  “You don’t look so good.”

He flashed her a glare.  “That’s kind of what happens when someone hits you in the head, Highness.”

She winced.  “I’m sorry.  I was desperate.”

“That I gathered quite well on my own, thank you,” Killian replied ruefully.  “You left quite the impression, literally.  I’d be remiss in my duties if I allowed you to strike any more of my crew.”

The princess regarded him silently for a moment, and he couldn’t help but return the stare, her eyes glittering in the dismal lighting.  She was clearly evaluating him, deciding if she could trust him, and he was surprised to realize that he hoped she would.  

“All right,” she said finally.  “You have my word that I won’t knock you out again.”

“Or run,” he added.  “I’m hardly in a position to go chasing after anyone right now, thanks to you.”

“I won’t run either,” she promised.

He held her gaze for a few more seconds before removing his sword from her neck and replacing it at his side.  He released her arm as well, lifting his hand to rub his aching head as he stepped backward to the ladder and sat on one of the rungs.

“Now talk,” he said from his perch.  “Why would King James want to kill everyone in Misthaven?”

“It’s a long story.”

“You can either tell me, or you can explain it to the Admiralty later. In irons.”

The princess went over to one of the crates and settled herself on top.  She fidgeted nervously with the clasp of her cloak as she sat in silence, looking down at her lap.  A minute passed, maybe two, until she spoke.

“How long have you lived in the Enchanted Forest?” she asked.

The question startled Killian.  “I’ve been a citizen for about 5 years, since my brother and I were recruited for the Navy.”   _Odd time to be making small talk,_ he thought.

She only nodded at his response.  “Tell me, Lieutenant, were any of your officers born and raised in the Enchanted Forest?”

He hadn’t really thought about it before, but now, as he mentally went through the list of Lieutenants on board the _Jewel_ , as well as the other ships in the Navy that he knew well, he realized that all of them had been hired from other lands.  Even most of the midshipmen were not locals.

“No,” he answered honestly.  “Not that I know of, anyway.  But what does that have to do with-”

“How much do you know about this war?” she interrupted.

He considered his words carefully.  “Your king, your father, stole a large amount of land from King James, and he wants it back.”  It sounded like a line from a children’s book, even to his ears, but it was the simplest way of describing all that he’d learned about the politics of the land since joining the Royal Navy.

She was quiet again, the silence broken only by the sounds of water splashing against the hull and the ever-constant creaking and groaning of a ship at sea.

“It was a lie,” she said softly, not meeting his eyes.  “Misthaven and the Enchanted Forest used to be one kingdom, which was divided about twenty years ago with the death of the king, your king’s father.  He divided it and gave half to my father and half to James, but it wasn’t enough for James.  He kept trying to grab more land for himself, piece by piece.  My father was content to let him have the small villages he took at first, but then he started demanding larger farms, and eventually entire cities.  He refused to concede those, and James decided it was worth going to war over.”

She looked at him and continued.  “In order to keep the secret, that the lands really belonged to my father, James only recruited officers from other lands, who wouldn’t know enough about the history to question what was happening.  He continued to tell his lies over and over throughout the years, until even those born and raised in the kingdoms believed it and supported him.

“And here we are now, ten years into a war that has taken so many good people.  Only now, James isn’t after the cities anymore, he wants to destroy the entire kingdom in one fell swoop, and then claim all the land as his own.”  She finished her tale, sagging a bit where she sat.

Killian just sat on the ladder rung, transfixed.  He’d heard rumors that the war in which they were engaged had less than pure motives, but he’d never dreamed it could be this big of a conspiracy.  How had he never seen it before?  Or Liam, who had an eye for details and usually read people and their intentions accurately?  Had they really been so thoroughly duped?

He realized he had been inadvertently rubbing his aching wound while she spoke, and now a sticky wetness coated his fingers even through the bandage.  He pressed his hand against the tender knot as hard as he could handle without hurting his head too much.

One more question remained, however.  “While that's certainly a compelling story, Your Highness, why should I believe anything you're telling me?” he asked.

He could see her swallow hard even in the quickly-fading evening light.

“Because,” she said quietly, revealing the small wooden box she held in her hand, no more than three inches in either direction.  “I have proof.”

* * *

 

“I have proof.”

Emma held out the box, at the same time wondering what the hell she was doing telling the Lieutenant of the Enchanted Forest's Navy all her kingdom's secrets.  She couldn't explain it, and she knew she'd have to answer for what she was telling him at some point, but there was something about the young officer that she, apparently, had decided to trust.

It wasn't guilt, though she felt terrible about the obvious pain he was in, the slowly spreading bloodstain seeping into the bandage around his forehead - _because of me_ , she thought regretfully.

No, it was something else, something about the way he looked at her, some deeper sense of honour and honesty beneath the officer who simply followed orders for his king.  She had a feeling that he would do the right thing, once he knew what that was.

“What’s in it?” he asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

“It’s the poison they’re searching for,” she said.  With her other hand, she flipped the small latches on the side and opened it.  Inside lay a cutting of the deadly branch, it’s sinister thorns glistening darkly with the lethal toxin.

“Dreamshade,” she said.  “A single scratch from this will kill a man quickly and painfully.”

The Lieutenant stood and moved closer to her, peering into the box.  He looked up at her cautiously, his eyes a brilliant shade of blue in the dimness of the room.  He was so close that she could smell him - the biting sweetness of sweat over a faint spiciness, mingled with the salt of the sea.  

He stepped back, his movements stiff and shaky.  “That’s not exactly enough to kill everyone in your land, Princess.”  He settled back on the ladder rung.  “Besides, we were under the impression we were searching for a map.”

Emma snapped the lid back in place quickly.  She quickly wondered how much she should reveal to him, how much she was actually willing to trust him.

 _Whether he betrays me or not, it’ll have the same end,_ she thought.

“I am the map.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her, his expression almost comical if not for the deadly serious nature of the conversation.  

“I know where the poison comes from,” she explained.  “And I know how to get there to find more.”  She thought sadly of the man who gave his life to tell her the crucial bit of information that only she knew, now.  A botanist from Arendelle, who’d visited Misthaven a few months ago, had mistakenly pricked himself on the deadly plant while studying it for use as a potential medicine.  Before he died, he told her what he’d found - the plant and the sail - and made her swear to never allow the information fall into the wrong hands.

“And where might this secret place be exactly?  Another realm perhaps?”

She nodded, and his eyebrow lifted again.

“It’s only found in one place,” she said.  “Neverland.”

The Lieutenant sat quietly for a moment, his eyes never leaving hers even as his hand went up again to rub at his temple.

“Realm travel is impossible,” he finally said softly.  “The magic beans have been gone for years.  There’s no other way to get to other lands anymore.”

 _It’s now or never_.

Emma stood slowly and unbuckled the clasp at her throat, flipping her cloak around in front of her.  She eased the inner lining up to reveal what lay hidden between the two layers - a white cloth, so light it seemed to floated in the air.  

He reached out a hand and fingered the impossibly soft snowy feathers covering every inch of the folded sailcloth.  His eyes were wide when he looked at her.

“The Pegasus sail,” he whispered.

She nodded, replacing the lining and slipping the cloak around her shoulders once more.

“I thought it was a myth, a fairy tale parents told their children at bedtime,” he continued hoarsely.

“It’s real,” she said, sitting back down on the crate against the wall.  “It’s all real.”  She no longer referred only to the existence of the mythical sail that could cross realms, but the entirety of her story.  She hoped he now understood just was at stake, and why she couldn’t allow herself to be brought before the Admiralty, not just yet anyway.

He ran his hands across his face, rubbing his fingers into his eyes as he glanced around the hold with a dazed look.  

“This is too big for me,” he muttered.  “I can’t decide this alone.”  He moved as if to leave and she immediately jumped in front of him and held tightly to his wrist.

“You can’t tell anyone I’m here,” she begged, not bothering to hide the obvious note of pleading in her voice.  “Please.”

She weighed her odds against taking him down again.  The man looked as if he was about to fall over from sheer exhaustion already, it wouldn’t take much to put him out if she needed to.  Just in case, Emma clenched the wooden box tightly in her fist.

Instead of pulling away, he placed his other hand atop hers on his arm, his blue eyes sincere with promise.  “I need to tell my brother,” he said softly.  “He’ll know what to do.  I promise, I won’t tell anyone else, but he can help us figure out a plan.”

She must have already decided to trust him, well before she told him all her secrets.  So why hesitate now?

“Trust me,” he added.

Emma nodded once.  “Just your brother, all right?”

He grinned, a handsome look on him.

“I’ll be right back.”  He squeezed her hand reassuringly and then turned and climbed the ladder to somewhere in the ship.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Emma,” she mumbled to herself.  She backed away from the ladder in case of any visitors and went back to her hiding place behind the barrels to wait.

* * *

 

Killian raced along the decks of the ship as fast as he could.  Arriving at his brother’s door, he remembered to knock before bursting in.  Liam looked up from his desk, surrounded by a sea of books from the _Beetle_.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, jumping up in alarm.

“You have to come,” Killian managed to wheeze, leaning over the desk heavily.  Moving quickly wasn’t such a great idea after all, he decided.  The race of his heartbeat sped up the beat of pain against his head and his vision blurred suddenly as the room spun.  He blinked a few times trying to clear his eyes, most of his weight supported on his arms against the wooden table.

Liam touched his shoulder.  “Killian, your head, it’s-”  

Killian shrugged him off, and grasped his brother’s arm tightly.

“I found her, Liam,” he said.  “She’s here, on the _Jewel_.  I need you to come with me, talk to her.”

“Who’s here?  The woman who hit you?”

“Aye, she was hiding in the hold.  I had a feeling, so I went down there and-”

“Killian, you promised me you’d rest!” Liam interrupted.

“Liam, listen!” Killian nearly exploded.  His brother fell silent.

“You need to hear what she has to say.  As my brother, not as Captain” Killian said, forcing himself to speak calmly, though every part of him wanted to scream at Liam, to hurry him down to the hold to speak with the Princess.  “Come with me, please.”

The Captain nodded.  “All right.  I’ll talk to her.  But I don’t like stowaways, especially those who attack my Lieutenant.”

“Thank you,” Killian said.  He grabbed the softly glowing lantern from his brother’s desk.  

Liam indicated toward the door.

“Well?  Lead the way.”

* * *

 

Killian led his brother through the ship toward the hold where the Princess hid, each step sending bolts of pain through his head.  At the top of the ladder, he nodded to his brother.  

“After you, Captain,” he said.  Liam descended the rungs easily to the hold below.

Killian stayed above for a moment, trying to calm the pounding at his temple.  He prayed silently for the strength to get through this without passing out, hoping Liam would come up with a plan quickly so he could get some sleep.  At least now they could take their time, sit and discuss what to do without the added agony of rushing about.

A muffled shout from below and the distinct sound of swords being drawn interrupted his thoughts.

 _There goes taking it slowly,_ he thought as he nearly flew down the ladder, lantern in hand.

His brother and the Princess stood at arms length, their swords pressed against each other’s necks as they glared at each other.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Killian said as he moved between them.  “Liam, put down your sword!”

His brother didn’t budge, though he did turn his gaze on the younger Jones.  “She’s the Princess of Misthaven, Killian,” he ground out through clenched teeth, “and our sworn enemy.”

“She has what we need, brother,” Killian replied, frustration edging his voice.  “Stand.  Down.”

Liam shot him a fierce glance, but he removed his sword and slipped it neatly in its sheath at his side.

_One down…_

He turned to face the Princess, her sword wavering at the removal of Liam’s from her throat.

“Please, Your Highness,” he begged desperately.  “Just talk to him.”

She flashed him a glare of her own as she slammed her blade angrily into the slot against her hip.  “You never said your brother was the damn _Captain_!” she hissed.

Killian collapsed against the ladder and sunk down to sit on a step, exhausted.  “He’s not here as the Captain now, Princess.  He’s here as my brother and someone who might be able to figure out what to do next.  Isn’t that right, _Liam_?” he said quietly.

“Quite,” came the curt reply.  

Liam and the Princess moved to sit on opposite sides of the hold, as far from each other as they could get in the small space.  

 _We do not have time for this_ , Killian thought rubbing his head.

“Princess, if you would be so kind, please tell my brother what you told me,” he asked from his perch  “We’ll make port in a few hours and we need to figure out what we’re going to do next.”

She started to repeat what she’d told him earlier, softly at first but slowly gaining confidence as Liam became more interested in her story.  He asked questions, similar to those Killian had asked earlier, and he outright gasped when he saw the cutting of dreamshade she hid in the box.  But the look on his face when he saw the feathered sail - that’s when Killian knew that he believed.

Killian half listened to their exchanged, trying to come up with his own plan through the fog that muddied his brain.  But anything he could think of only ended in their deaths.  He looked up to see Liam pacing slowly across the wooden floorboards.

“The way I see it,” his brother was saying, “either we find a way to run from this war, in which case we’re hanged as deserters or, worst case, mutineers, or we confront the Admiralty, in which case we’re hanged because we know too much.  I’m not sure I see a way out of this one.”

The Princess nodded sadly.

Something occurred to Killian just then, a nagging curiosity he needed to satisfy.  “Your Highness,” he asked, “what was your plan, originally?”

She blushed, her cheeks turning pink in the dim yellow candlelight.  “I was planning to make a demonstration,” she said, not meeting either of their eyes.  “My plan was to surprise the military academy when the king visits, when everyone would be present, and show them just what their ruler was trying to accomplish in the war, and how.”

 _By using the dreamshade on herself,_ he thought in horror.   _She was planning to kill herself to save her land.  That can’t be the only wa-_

“I’ve got it!” he exclaimed, jumping off the step a little too fast.  He wobbled slightly, Liam’s arm coming up to support him.  “I know what we can do.  It’s risky, but I think there’s a good chance it’ll work.”

He quickly told them his plan.  The Princess was skeptical it could work, and Liam was blatantly opposed, but after a bit of persuasion, they both came around.

“You’re probably right,” Liam agreed with a sigh.  “I think this is the only way.”

“Agreed,” said the Princess, her fingers playing with the clasp at her throat.

Killian grinned widely.  “Now we just wait until morning.”

* * *

 

The Captain retired to his cabin for the night, promising to set aside a few spare changes of clothing and some food they could take with them come morning.  The brothers had argued briefly about where everyone else should go for the night - namely, her.  The Lieutenant was adamant things should remain as normal as possible until the last moment; the older Jones still had duties to attend to as Captain, and it would call suspicion on everyone were he to break from his role in the slightest.  Lieutenant Jones volunteered to guard her in the hold during the few remaining hours of darkness.  The elder brother looked angry as he pulled him aside - an unnecessary maneuver as Emma could still hear his harshly whispered words demanding he take care of himself and get some rest.

“I can tend to his wound,” she had offered, stepping forward.  “After all, it was my fault in the first place.  And I’ll stay hidden.  He can sleep on the spare ropes and if anyone finds him, he’ll just claim he was sleepwalking.  Then no one will think to look for me.”

The Captain had nodded his agreement, though he didn’t look too happy, and left the hold, not before shooting his brother a steady glare.

The younger Jones sagged against the crate looking thoroughly exhausted.  She went over and sat beside him.

“Thank you,” she said softly, “for believing me.”  

He nodded absently.  “Don’t thank me yet, Princess.  It’s not over.”

Emma knew it was a good plan, but she couldn’t help the nervous twisting in her belly as she thought about all that could go wrong.

“Here, let me take a look at your head,” she said, hoping the distraction would calm her down.

She reached up and found the end of the cloth, gently unwrapping it as he sat still, his eyes following her every move.  He winced as she removed the last of it, and something sharp flashed in her chest.  Just sympathy or something more, she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out which.  She folded the cloth, hiding the blood-soaked area under clean white. She dabbed at his temple, trying to clean off the fresh blood that had seeped from the cut in his hair.  He hissed, flinching from her touch.

“Sorry,” she murmured.  

The Lieutenant reached behind his back and brought forward a small leather flask.

“Water,” he said, offering it to her.

Emma took it and screwed off the top.  Careful not to waste any, she splashed a bit onto the bandage.

“How did you find me here?” she asked as she wiped his head, careful not to press too hard on the obvious bruise.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.  “You’re something of an open book,” he said quietly.  “And you seemed quite determined to get away from me on the _Beetle_.  The enemy’s ship would be the last place anyone would look for you, so it made sense that’s where you’d be.  Clever move, I have to admit.”

She blushed at his compliment, ducking her head so he wouldn’t see the smile starting to spread.  She could feel his impossibly blue eyes watching her as she cleaned off the last of the blood.

“May I ask you a question, Highness?” he asked.

She nodded, focusing again on his wound.

“Why did you kiss me?”  She didn’t answer right away, couldn’t answer, because she didn’t have a reason.  He reached up and pulled her hand away from his face.  She looked at him, finally, as he continued.  “I mean, you probably could have hit me without it, I wouldn’t have seen it coming either way.”

She shrugged.  “I don’t know,” she said.  “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

This time, it was his turn to blush, a slow redness that crept up his cheeks to the tips of his ears.

She put the cloth down behind her.  “I’m finished here.  Do you want me to wrap it with something?”

He shook his head.  “Leave it,” he said.  “It’ll heal faster in the open air.”  He stood slowly, a groan escaping as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“If you don’t mind, Your Highness, I think I’ll try and get some sleep.”  

“Emma,” she said.

He looked confused.  “Beg your pardon?”

“You can call me Emma.  All the handsome men I hit in the head are awarded that privilege.”  She smirked at his flustered expression.  A Navy man like him, he probably had been drilled on using proper titles at all times.

He recovered quickly.  “I wouldn’t be surprised if there are quite a few of those unfortunate gentlemen lying around somewhere,” he said with a grin.  “You seem to have natural talent for it.”

He extended his hand to her.  

“All right, Emma,” he smiled, and she couldn’t help the fluttering feeling in her chest when he said her name.  “Then I’m Killian.  Killian Jones.  It’s an honour to meet you.”

She slipped her fingers in his and shook, the gentle strength of his hand squeezing hers a comfortable feeling, his long fingers brushing across the inside of her wrist sending sparks up her arm.

Killian released her hand and went over the stack of coiled ropes.  He settled slowly onto the floor, his arms folded across his chest, head resting back on the thick lines as he closed his eyes.

Emma watched him in the flickering lantern light as she chewed her lip nervously.  She had been planning to give her life to end the war, to call attention to the heinous crimes of King James, and she was prepared to see it through.  But now that she had help, now that they had a plan, it really hit her how real it all was, how close she had come to dying when there _was_ another way, if Killian’s plan ended up working.  The sick feeling in her stomach was worse, and she could feel her fingers trembling, her legs shaking slightly under her skirts.

She was terrified.

“There’s plenty of room here, if you want,” she heard him say softly.  His eyes were open in narrow slits, a gentle expression on his face.

“I don’t bite,” he added, “as long as you don’t.”

She hesitated, not sure what to do.  She should hide, she knew, in case of wandering crew members during the night.  She also knew she shouldn’t be sleeping in the arms of an enemy officer aboard his ship, regardless of what he planned to do to help her, especially because of what she wanted to deny feeling for him.  But at the same time, there was that _something_ about the Lieutenant, that she couldn’t help but trust him, and that scared her just as much.

She made her decision.  Her life was already in his hands, sitting beside him should be no big deal.  She turned out the fire in the lantern and made her way to the ropes in the near absolute darkness.

Sitting next to him on the floor, she leaned her head slightly against his upper arm.  He shifted a bit to give her more room, reaching his arm around her shoulders as she rested stiffly against his chest.

“I’m scared, too,” he whispered into her hair.

She twisted her neck to look up at him in the dark.  She could just make out his tired eyes, the fear hiding behind the dark pupils identical to what she felt in her own.

“How did you know?”

He smiled and rubbed her arm.

“Open book, love.”

She grinned, and snuggled closer.  His other hand reached across his body and held hers, gentle fingers on the back of hers around the small box that was still grasped in her fist.  For the first time since the war began, she felt safe, protected.

“Sleep well, Emma,” he whispered.

“You too, Killian.”

They were both asleep in moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Breaking bulk" refers to the pilfering of a ship's cargo by the crew.


	4. Tack Against the Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be 4 parts, but it got REALLY long, so I split it up and didn't make you wait. You can send your thanks in the form of cookies or reviews, or both!
> 
> Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my world. Just my imagination borrowing them for a bit.

Killian woke to the sounds of shouting and stamping feet running across the decks above him.  They were about to make port, he knew, recognising the familiar noises of a ship preparing to dock.  He looked down at Emma who was still asleep on his chest and smiled.  If not for the absolute terror he felt at executing their only plan or for the headache that pounded steadily against the inside of his skull, it wasn’t a bad situation to be in.  She sighed softly in her sleep, and he couldn’t help the swelling of his heart as he watched her.   _Is this even real?_ he wondered.  It wasn’t every day that a princess like her cuddled up to sleep beside a boy like him.

He wanted to let her sleep, he wanted to be asleep himself, but he had to get up and return to work.  This was it, the moment they would make their move, and he needed to make sure everything was prepared.

“Emma,” he said quietly, gently nudging her shoulder.  “Wake up, love.  We’re almost there.”

She blinked open her eyes and stretched slowly, leaning back to sit on her own.  He felt the chill in the air without her warmth pressed against him.

“What time is it?” she asked, rubbing her eyes with one hand.

“I’d estimate just past dawn.”  He twisted his neck to get out whatever kinks had developed overnight and then slowly hauled himself to his feet, pulse hammering at his temple.

He stretched out his hand to her and she grasped it tightly, pulling herself up until she stood in front of him, her body flush with his.  He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to return to his duties, as he stood with her, her bright emerald eyes watching his, his hand still holding her fingers tightly, the gossamer feeling of something unspoken hovering in the short space between them.

The ship lurched suddenly, throwing her into him, breaking whatever spell he was surely under.  She blushed as she peeled herself out of his arms.

“I should go up and get ready,” he said with a cough, certain his face and ears were just as pink.

“Yeah,” she agreed softly, turning away from him.  “I’ll go back in hiding in the meanwhile.”

He started up the ladder, then turned back to watch her, blonde hair positively glowing in the thin streams of sunlight from above.  “I’ll be back soon,” he said quietly.  Emma smiled back at him and then she was gone, tucked behind the row of barrels against the bulkhead.

He left the hold.

Killian soon found himself busy with the routine of a ship making port, handing out commands to those under him and making sure they were followed through.  He did stop in to see his brother, flashing him a grin as Liam was engrossed in conversation with the quartermaster.  He also managed to slip away and deposit a spare set of clothing in the hold, though he didn’t see Emma in the few moments he was there.  

At the dock, he was surprised by the number of soldiers waiting for them in the small port town.  A twist of fear clenched in his chest, and he prayed once more that the plan should work.  Liam met him on deck as the crew tied off the last of the ropes to the dock posts and slid the gangway into place.  Killian grasped the medium sized crate he held in his hands tightly to hide the trembling of his fingers.

Liam disembarked first and made his way to the Captain of the Guard, who was standing at attention on the pier.  He was soon engrossed in conversation, something Killian wished desperately he could overhear.  It was hard enough trusting that Emma was where she needed to be, he couldn’t stand how many things could go wrong so quickly before they could even get off the ship.

His brother turned just then, signaling to Killian that it was time to go.  He turned back to the crew still aboard the ship and gave instructions to the Master at Arms to remove all cargo to the loading docks, and motioned for the nearest midshipman to grab the parcels resting against the bulkhead and come with him.

Leaving the ship in the Master’s capable hands, he and the midshipman crossed the gangway to the wagon Liam had procured for their trip.  They loaded the crate and packages into the bed and climbed aboard, Killian at the reins with his brother beside him, the junior officer tucked into the back, and soon they were off.

“You told them specifically about the package we were carrying?” Killian asked as they left the quayside.

“Yes, Killian,” was Liam’s reply, his eyes darting in every direction while trying not to act suspicious to anyone who may have been watching.

“And they saw us load the box in the back?” he asked nervously.

“Yes, Killian.”  Liam turned on the bench to face him.  “Calm down, brother,” he said, his hand on Killian's shoulder.  “Everything is going as it should.”

Killian nodded, but didn't take his eyes off the road. The sooner they got out of town, the better.  The pain is his head was little more than a dull throb over the sick flutter of fear in his belly.   _Almost, we're almost out._

The moment they left the town gates, he could feel himself relaxing somewhat, his white-knuckled grip on the reins loosening to a more comfortable grasp.  He risked a look over his shoulder.

“Everything all right back there?” he asked.

“Aye aye, Lieutenant,” Emma said as she sat up.  She pulled off the blue cocked hat, allowing her golden hair to spill down her back.  “How far do you think we have to get before ditching the wagon?” she asked, tugging her cloak from one of the packages in the back.

Killian glanced at Liam  “Another hour, you think?”

Liam didn’t respond.

“Liam?”  His brother pulled off his bicorne and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Another hour is probably fine,” he finally said, sounding distracted.

Killian put a hand on his brother’s arm.  “What’s wrong?”

Liam shook his head and gave Killian a half-hearted smile.  “Nothing, brother.  Just trying to figure out what to say to the Admiralty when we get caught.”

Killian sighed.  “Don’t worry about it,” he said gently.  “Everything will be fine.” _I hope…_

They drove in silence for another hour, veering deeper into the forest toward Misthaven.  It would be another two days travel at the pace they were going, the end so close it was nearly palpable.  At the stopping point, they unloaded the wagon, Killian and Liam changed into street clothes and ditched their Naval uniforms as Emma switched back into her dress.  They strapped the packages of food and supplies to the horses and left the empty crate and uniforms in the wagon.  They freed the hitch and set off again, Liam on one horse, Emma behind Killian on the other.

They made good time, travelling a respectable distance in the few remaining daylight hours.  When night fell, they set up camp.  Emma built the fire as Liam scouted the area for possible soldiers or, worse, bounty hunters, as Killian prepared what little food they had.

Once they'd eaten, Killian offered to take first watch, knowing his brother could use the sleep.  Liam had been up earlier than he that morning and he probably had been taking care of preparations well into the night.  His brother didn’t argue, for once, as he settled on the ground, wrapped in one of the spare blankets they brought.  He was asleep in moments.  Emma set up her bedding on the other side of the now-extinguished campfire as Killian rested against a nearby tree stump facing the dark forest, a cup of rapidly cooling tea clenched in his hands.

He was worried - worried this wouldn’t work, worried they had been _too_ good at their escape, worried that they wouldn’t make it where they needed to go, worried that Emma or his brother would get hurt in the events still to come.  He knew he wasn’t going to be able to sleep anyway, which is why he had volunteered to stand guard in the first place, but he wasn’t prepared for the depth of his fear, slight tremors shaking his body that had nothing to do with the cool night air.

The sound of a branch breaking jolted him from his thoughts, his head twisting to the side so fast he could feel his neck crack.  He jumped to his feet, hand at his sword.

“It’s just me,” whispered Emma in the dark.  “I can’t sleep.”

Killian relaxed slowly and let out a sigh of relief.  She came closer and looked at him in the moonlight, a concerned expression on her gentle features.

“Are you all right?” she asked gently.  “You seem pretty nervous.”

He sank down to sit against the stump once more, Emma settling beside him.

“So much can still go wrong,” he said quietly, his hand running through his hair.  “And this was my idea, my plan.  I feel responsible if anything were to happen to you or Liam, or if we manage to make things worse for both our lands instead of better.  I just don’t know what’s going to happen.”

She was quiet for a moment, and he worried she was having second thoughts as well.  

“Whatever happens, it’s not your fault,” she said at last.  “It’s a good plan, the best I’ve heard so far.  And the timing should work out perfectly.  It was rather brilliant, actually.”

He blushed, thankful for the near darkness that hid his embarrassment, as he fingered with random threads on his unfamiliar clothes. He suddenly felt her hand on his cheek, pulling his face to her.  He turned, her eyes sparkling in the thin slivers of moonlight.

“No matter what, I owe you more than I can ever repay, Killian,” she said softly, her voice filled with a sincerity he could almost touch.  “You believed in me, you showed me a way out.  At least now, we have a chance to end this war.  Even if I don’t survive, at least I know I went out fighting with everything I have.  You’re the one who gave that to me, you trusted me when you had no reason to, and I can’t thank you enough for that.”

He wanted to reassure her that it would be all right, wanted to kiss her again, prove to her how much she meant to him as well, wanted to hold her tight and never let go, but how could he know what the future would hold?  They could be dead by morning, and there was nothing he could do about it.  A tremor of fear passed through him suddenly and he looked away, ashamed of his weakness in front of her.

She seemed to sense his discomfort, releasing her hand on his cheek and nuzzling closer to him instead.  He wrapped his arm around her shoulder - that much he could handle.

“Why did you believe me?” she asked hesitantly.  “You had no reason to trust me, even after I showed you the dreamshade and the sail.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he said with a smirk.  

She tapped him lightly on his chest.  “I’m serious.”

“Well,” he started, “we’d been told that your land started this war, and was aggressively involved in grabbing more and more land, against which James was defending.  If that were true, then why would you be hiding below the decks of your own ship?  There were two options, as I saw it,” he continued, glancing down at her, twining his fingers in hers over his heart.  “One, you were about to mount a one-woman offense against the entire country, using the tiny bit of dreamshade you carried.  Or two, you were telling the truth.  It seemed to me that the second was the most likely.”

She said nothing, just continued stroking his hand with her fingers gently.  He rubbed his hand up and down her arm, just feeling close to this woman who had so thoroughly changed his life overwhelmed him.  Yesterday he had been so sure of who he was - an officer defending the Enchanted Forest for his king - and now, everything was different.

“Why?” she asked again.  “Perhaps I was planning to use the Pegasus sail to get to Neverland on my own, and stock up on more dreamshade.  That would have been the third option.”

“You’re forgetting two things, Emma,” he murmured softly.

“What?” she whispered.

“Your eyes, and your kiss.”

She looked confused, so he rushed to continue.  “You were terrified, love.  Not because you got caught, not for yourself, but for what would happen to everyone else if you were, everyone you cared for, everyone you loved.  That’s not how an offensive mission would go, would it?”

“Maybe I was lying to get you to help me.”

He shook his head.  “The fear was real, I can’t explain how I knew, but I could almost feel it.”

She cleared her throat softly.  “And the kiss?  Why did that mean anything?”

He smiled down at her.  “Well, I may not have much experience with women, but I can recognise despair, and hopelessness.  In my life, I’ve come to understand both of those rather… intimately.”  He paused at the brief flash of memory, hoping she wouldn’t ask how, not ready to relive those painful moments of his childhood just yet.  She didn’t say a word.  He continued.  “You, my dear, were so desperate you were willing to kiss a lowly Lieutenant to get away.  That told me a lot more than your story did.”

She grinned, and tucked her head back down.  They sat quietly for a few moments, the gentle rise and fall of each breath they took the only movement in the dark forest.

“It wasn’t so bad,” Emma said softly, breaking the silence.

“Pardon?”

She sat back.  “The kiss.  It wasn’t so bad, for not having much experience, as you claim.”

He blushed furiously, though this time he was certain she could tell even in the dark by the grin that played at the edges of her mouth.  “I’m sure you would know.  A beautiful princess such as yourself must have many suitors, eh?”

She shook her head, smiling.  “There was only one before, but it wasn’t a good match.”

Killian wasn’t sure what to say.  “I’m sorry to hear that, love.”

Emma shrugged.  “I’m not.  It wasn’t meant to be, we moved on.”  He was surprised at the relief he felt hearing that.

She moved closer, her hand touching his chest as she sat beside him.  He turned, his hand automatically reaching to cover hers.

“There are ways to get more experience, you know,” she said softly, her eyes on his lips as she stroked his shoulder, moving up toward his neck and the back of his head.

He wanted this, more than he even knew how much until just then.  But he needed to know she did as well.

“Are you sure about this, Emma?” his voice husky and low.  “I mean, you're a princess and I’m just a Lieutenant and I’m not even-”  

She cut him off with a finger on his lips.  “Shh,” she whispered.  She leaned closer and soon her lips were on him, the softness of them pressed against his mouth.  The sparks he’d felt with their first kiss were, if possible, even hotter now, fire racing through his blood as he kissed her.  He could feel her fingers threading in his hair, his hand running through her golden strands as well, but all that mattered was her mouth on his, and the feeling he wished would never end.

But it did, and she pulled back, gasping slightly for air.  He was breathless, his heart hammering in his chest.  He touched his swollen lips with his fingertips.

“That was -” he started hoarsely, voice wrecked with the sheer emotion he couldn’t control.

“- much better than the first time,” she finished as she leaned forward again, this time grasping the fabric of his jacket and pulling him toward her.  He wasn’t prepared, he didn’t think he’d ever be prepared, for the way her lips crashed against his, taking what little breath he’d so recently recovered.  He held her head in his hand, his thumb rubbing against the smooth skin of her neck as she breathed into him the air he’d been lacking.

He was so distracted, he didn’t see the heavy musket slamming into his shoulder, throwing him to the dirt.  A booted foot hit him in the stomach, driving out his breath and sending him curling in agony, the rough bark of the tree stump at his back.  He gasped, tears filling his eyes with the sudden pain as he looked around wildly.  Three large men stood in their makeshift camp.  One held Emma back by her arms, her face a mask of terror, while another had his hands around Liam’s throat, his brother pinned against a tree as he struggled for air, his eyes wide, fingers clawing uselessly against his attackers large fists.  The third, the most likely leader, stood threateningly over him, his foot drawn back yet again.

“No,” Killian wheezed sharply, twisting to get to his knees.  Another vicious kick hit his ribs and he was sure he felt something crack as he fell back to the ground with a pained grunt, fingers fisting in the dried leaves.  “Leave them alone,” he gasped.  

“You don’t get to make the demands ‘round ‘ere,” leered the largest man as he loomed over Killian’s sprawled form.  “Y’see, yer all deserters, ‘s far as the king’s concerned.”  He pulled back his foot and Killian could do nothing to get out of the way as the kick was aimed once again at his midsection.  He wanted to cry out as the hard boot hit his ribs, but he had no breath, he could only gape silently as he begged his body to pull in more air, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

He felt the large man grab a fistful of his clothing, pulling his upper half from the dirt, his face inches from Killian’s.  “You’ll fetch us a hefty bounty, you three,” he snarled as he shook his body roughly.

Killian’s vision swam, he could barely breathe with the pain in his chest.  His hands came up weakly, grabbing at the larger man’s arms ineffectively.  “You need us alive,” he rasped, forcing the words past his clenched teeth.  “So let them go.”

The man threw him to the ground and kicked him again, and this time Killian silently begged for unconsciousness to end his pain.  “I said,” spat the leader, “you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

He stood back, nodding toward the two men who held the only two people Killian really cared about.  “Ge’ ‘em in the cage,” he ordered.  He smiled down at Killian, who could only watch as his brother and the princess were dragged toward the dark forest.

“Yer comin’ with me,” the man grinned as he slammed the butt of his musket into Killian’s head, and everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Tacking" is the act of a moving a ship into the wind, usually a zigzagging motion.


	5. Prize Court

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finished! I finished my first multi-chapter! I'm so happy I could dance!
> 
> Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my world. Just my imagination borrowing them for a bit.

Emma stumbled as she was pushed into the prison wagon, catching herself on the wall of the cage, the iron manacles around her wrists clinking loudly against the chain connecting them.  Liam was already inside and sitting against the back wall of the dark cage, his cuffed hands rubbing his neck gently.

“Are you -” he tried to say, his voice weak and raspy as he broke off in a pained cough.

She nodded, turning back to the black metal door behind her.  “I'm fine.”   _Killian…_

A moment later, his limp body was tossed onto the floor of the wagon and the iron gate swung shut.  The largest of the bounty hunters snarled through the thin space between the fat metal bars.  “Best get comfortable, Highness,” he jeered as he slammed the huge lock shut.  “We’ve got a bit of a trip ahead of us and I can’t wait to get paid for you lot.”  He walked away, leaving them alone in the near darkness.

She turned to Killian, Liam already beside him.  The left side of Killian’s face was covered in blood, the bruise at his temple much larger than the one she’d given him the other day.  His breaths were even but strangely stuttering, his eyes firmly shut.

“Ribs,” whispered Liam, his hand on his brother’s side.

“Broken?” she asked, her chest twisting in sympathy.  

He nodded and mouthed, _Probably._

“Is there anything we should do?”  

He frowned and shook his head.  “Later,” he whispered.

The wagon started moving, the mobile prison swaying and bumping as they started back to the Enchanted Forest.

Emma ran her fingers lightly through his dark hair, pushing the stray locks away from the blood on his face.  Liam’s hand tapped her arm.  “Water,” he rasped, pointing to his brother’s back.  She had a moment of confusion, then remembered.

_The flask.  Right._

She felt it tucked beneath the waistband of Killian’s trousers and yanked it free, passing it to the elder Jones.  He had ripped off a scrap of cloth from the inside of his jacket and he quickly splashed some water on it before pressing it to his brother’s head.  With his other hand, he gently rubbed his fingers across his own neck, and in the dim light peeking through the window on the door, she could see the ring of red marking his throat.

“I can do this for him,” she offered softly, “if you need to rest.”

Liam watched her a moment, his eyes difficult to read in the darkened cage.

“Don’t hurt him,” he whispered finally.

“What?”

“Too many… let him down… left him… before,” Liam managed to get out softly, pausing between each breath.  “Don’t hurt him.”

She put her hand on top of his, over the cloth on Killian’s head, and looked straight at Liam, his eyes barely illuminated in the dim light.

“I won’t.”

Liam nodded and withdrew his hand to settle back against the wall.  She kept her palm over the rag as she slipped her other hand beneath Killian’s head, shifting him onto her folded lap.  Dabbing carefully, she managed to wipe away most of the blood.  No new gashes marred his head, but the wound she’d given him had reopened and was bleeding steadily, a slow trickle that she wiped away with the damp scrap of cloth.   _I’m sorry_.

She stroked his hair gently, shining black in the moonlight, as the wagon rocked and lurched through the woods.  The minutes passed, and he still didn’t wake, though his older brother had nodded off a while ago, another water-soaked scrap of his clothing wrapped loosely around his injured neck.

“Killian,” she whispered, patting his face gently with the cloth.  “Come back to me.”

As if he heard, Killian suddenly groaned, squeezing his eyes tightly as he shifted in her lap.

“People need to stop hitting me in the head,” he moaned.  He lifted his shackled hand to his head, startled at the heavy irons around his wrist.

“Hey,” she whispered down at him.  He cracked open his eyes and peered at her, squinting even in the dark.  “Are you all right?”

He grinned, a lopsided smirk that lit up half his face.  “All part of the plan, right?”

“Getting beaten up wasn’t really a part of the plan, was it?”

He slipped one hand around his chest, cradling his battered ribs as he rolled fully onto his back, his head still in her lap, grunting in pain as he moved.  “It was, ow, always a possibility.”

A worried look crossed his eyes, and he spun his head to the side, searching for his brother.  “Liam… is he-”

“He’s fine,” she said softly, her hand on his shoulder.  “He’s asleep.  But we have a problem.”

Killian turned back to her, his hand still on his face.  “What?”

“Liam can’t talk.”

He was quiet for a moment, and Emma knew why.  The last part of their plan, the part they were heading toward, was for Liam to plead their case before the Admiralty with the king present, to accuse King James and his top military men of attempted genocide.  Liam was the most eloquent, the least likely to lose his temper (which Killian argued briefly before realising he’d already lost his case), and the most likely to be heard, being a full Captain.  Intentionally getting caught by bounty hunters was worthless without Liam - without his voice, they were in trouble.  As royalty from the enemy land, they wouldn’t listen to her, and if Killian felt as bad as he looked, there was no way he could manage such a task.

“I’ll do it,” he said quietly.

She shook her head.  “You can’t, you can barely keep your eyes open.  How are you going to stand in front of them for however long it takes and do what needs to be done?”

“I’ll do it,” he repeated.  “We have no other choice.”  She knew he was right, but it didn’t seem fair, after everything that had happened to him already to be forced to bear this burden as well.

“You still have the dreamshade?” he asked.  

She nodded.  “Yeah.”

“Let me hold onto it.  I think it’ll work better if it comes from me.”  

Emma slipped her hand into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out the leather glove she’d stashed there earlier, passing it to him.  

“You’re sure it can’t stab me through this?”  Killian fingered the top of the glove nervously.

“It’s two gloves, one inside the other,” she answered.  “And yes, it doesn’t go through leather.  You’ll be fine.”

He pushed the concealed poison into his pocket and relaxed against her legs again.

“Actually,” Emma started softly, not really sure how to continue.  “You’re, um…”  She could feel the heat on her cheeks as she stammered to find the right words.  “You’re kind of heavy,” she whispered in the end, “and I need to stretch.”

“If you can move, that is,” she added hurriedly, watching his face.

He smiled.  “Sure.”  With his arm wrapped around his chest, he managed to slide off her lap, groaning softly as she helped him move to sit against the side wall of their mobile prison.  His eyes were closed tightly as he leaned his head back against the wall, but after a few steadying breaths, he opened them and looked to her.

“Come here,” he whispered softly, his arm reaching out for her, iron chain dangling noisily in the air.  She slid closer to him, ducking under his elbow to rest in their now familiar position against his chest, his arm wrapped firmly around her shoulders as he held her.

“It’s going to work out,” he said, pressing a light kiss to her forehead.  “Don’t worry, Emma.  The hard part is over.”

“You think convincing the Admiralty that the king is a traitor is going to be _easy_?” she asked.

He laughed, then grunted as the movement must have pained his sore ribs.  “No, not at all,” he murmured.  “This entire time I’ve been worried about you getting hurt, because of me.  Now that I know you’re safe, the rest is simple.”

“But you’re injured,” she whispered.  “How are you going to manage in front of them like this?”

“I’ve had worse.  I’ll be fine.”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what “worse” was, but she found herself too tired to chase that line of thought even if she did.  She yawned, lifting her hand to cover her mouth as she did.

“Rest, love.  I’ll wake you when we get there.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the constant rocking of the carriage through the woods, or the way his chest rose and fell steadily, if not more shallow than before, under her cheek, the sound of his heartbeat loud in the ear pressed against him, or the general warmth she felt when she was next to him, but it didn’t matter.

She slept.

* * *

 

Killian sensed the change in the wagon’s movements even while asleep, feeling the difference between the dirt forest road and the city’s semi-paved ones immediately.  He opened his eyes, trying to gauge where they were based on the sounds, but found that a harder task without being able to see out the tiny window.  His head hurt, more than it had the last time someone hit him, but tending to it would have to wait.  He could feel the bruising that was spread across his midsection and he was certain at least two of his ribs were broken to some degree.  Not much he could do about it now, so he forced himself to breathe as normally as possible, pain flaring a bit at each inhale but nothing he couldn’t manage, for a while anyway.

He looked around the small wagon.  Emma was still pressed against him, breathing slowly and evenly, completely asleep.  Liam was just waking up as well, his hands gently touching his neck, which was red and slightly swollen.  Killian winced in sympathy even as his brother flashed him a grin.

 _You all right_? Liam mouthed.  He nodded and raised an eyebrow to his brother.   _You?_

Liam made a face and shrugged.   _I’ll live,_ he replied soundlessly.

The wagon stopped just then.  Killian nudged Emma.  “Wake up, love,” he said softly.  “We’re here.”

She opened her eyes quickly and sat back, lifting her manacled hands to wipe the sleep from her face.  “Is this…” she paused, looking at the two brothers in turn.  “Is this really going to work?”

Liam nodded without hesitation, and Killian reached for her, touching her shoulder gently.  “Yes.”  She smiled at him, and he could feel whatever doubt or hesitation he’d been hiding melt away right there.

“Thank you,” she whispered.  “Both of you, for doing this for me, for my kingdom.  I can’t thank you enough.”

Killian grinned as Liam tipped an imaginary hat to her, just as the sound of a key fiddling in the locked door sounded just outside the cage.  

“Wakey wakey, traitors,” one of the men shouted.  The lock clicked and the door swung open, bright light streaming into the wagon.  Killian blinked, it felt as if the light was piercing his pounding skull, but he forced himself to act as if nothing was wrong.  Emma needed him now, they all counted on him, he couldn’t let them down, the cost was too high and there was no going back.

“Ge’ out,” the largest man called inside.

He stood first, crouching low as he stepped toward the door, hopping lightly to the ground below.  He nearly made it without a sound as the movement jarred his broken ribs, but the man’s elbow suddenly found its way into his side and he fell over in the dirt with a short cry of pain.  He swallowed hard, forcing the throbbing pain to the back of his consciousness as he slowly got to his feet, chains clinking loudly against his cuffed wrists.

Emma was out of the wagon and Liam was just stepping down as he was nudged over to them, then all three herded toward the gleaming white building in front of them.

The Admiralty.  In session, by the amount of flags waving in the gentle breeze, the king’s flag flapping atop the highest flagpole.

_James was here.  Perfect._

They were prodded through the door, then down the long hallway toward the courtroom.  With the king’s visit, it was likely open court, which was exactly what they were hoping for - a room full of other captains and high-ranking officers as their witnesses.

“The deserters, as promised, plus the spy” the leader claimed proudly to the clerk sitting in a small desk beside the door.

“Leave them,” the clerk replied without looking up.  “Your bounty is in the usual place, down the hall in Funds.”

“Guess this is goodbye,” the leader muttered in Killian’s ear.  “Can’t say I’ll miss ye, but I suppose we’ll meet again.  At your hanging.” He turned and left, the other two men following, as they sauntered down the hallway, and Killian swore the large one winked at him as he turned the corner.  He ignored the shudder that passed through him.

He turned his attention back on the clerk, who was still speaking.

“- you’ll be presented in a few minutes.  The court will list your crimes and you’ll be given a chance to defend yourselves.  Do you require a barrister?”

Liam shook his head.  The clerk made a note.  “Good, that will speed things along considerably.  One last note, this the most important.  Though the king is present, you are not to address him directly.  The Admiralty court still reserves jurisdiction on your sentencing and it is the First Lord Admiral to whom you will be speaking.”  He nodded to the guard, who had appeared from seemingly nowhere.

“Take them in.”

Killian barely had a chance to take a breath, to calm himself, to process everything that was happening before he, Liam and the Princess were ushered into the large room, the heavy doors closing with a loud “thud” behind them, sounding very, very final.

The room was packed.  Ahead of them, the court sat in session, Admirals and local lords seated behind the bench.  In the center sat King James, the sight of him turning Killian’s stomach more than the beating he’d taken the night before.  He knew he had to calm down, to act reasonably, especially because Liam wasn’t able to take over for him, but he couldn’t help the anger rising in his blood the closer they got to the front of the room.

The bailiff read from the list he’d been handed as the three prisoners were pushed into the defendant’s box.  “Your Highness, Lords of the Admiralty, presenting Captain William Jones, of the Jewel of the Realm, Lieutenant Killian Jones, of the Jewel of the Realm, and Princess Emma, from the kingdom of Misthaven.”

A hushed whisper rose in the crowd at the last name as Emma slid imperceptibly closer to him.  He held her fingers tightly, surprised to find that his own were trembling just as badly as hers.

The First Lord Admiral Covey, leader of the Board of Admiralty, called out from beside the king.  “Read the charges, bailiff.”

“Captain Jones and Lieutenant Jones are charged with desertion and theft of royal property.  Princess Emma is charged with spying during wartime.”

“And how do you plead?” asked the First Lord, peering down at them over his slivered spectacles.

Killian took a breath, as deeply as he could manage, released Emma’s fingers and stepped forward.

“Not guilty, M’lord.”  His voice was clear, clearer than he thought it would be considering the violent shaking in his stomach, and he found himself relaxing a bit.

The king raised an eyebrow as the Admiral checked the notes in front of him.

“You are aware, Lieutenant, that we have reason to believe you found an item, a map, that you were sent to retrieve for your king.  We also have reason to believe that you removed said item from your ship in a crate, which was later found empty and abandoned with your wagon at the edge of the forest, along with your uniforms.  Are these not true statements, Lieutenant Jones?”

“They are true, for the most part, M’lord.”

“Then I am curious how you find yourself ‘not guilty’ amid these clearly undisputed claims.”

Killian spoke clearly, his voice never wavering, though the tremors of fear in his gut refused to let up.  “The item the king seeks was not in the crate, sir.  That was a ruse to force the Navy to send someone after us, to capture us.”

Another ripple of low murmurs puddled through the crowd, slightly louder than the last time.

Admiral Covey leaned forward in his seat.

“And why on earth would you _want_ to get caught, Lieutenant?”

Killian took a slow breath, preparing himself for the speech he had worked out only in his head so far.  He was pleased to note that the king seemed a bit uncomfortable with his last statement.   _So far, so good_.

“So we could ask the king, in person, why he would want to kill everyone in Misthaven, sir.”

The room _erupted_ in conversation, captains and officers talking back and forth animatedly, the king and and a few of the admirals looking almost sick.  The First Lord banged his gavel sharply on the bench.

“Order!  Order!”

The room fell silent once more.  Admiral Covey turned to Killian.

“That is an extremely strong accusation, Lieutenant, one which this court will not tolerate.  Kindly silence all further discussion on that topic.  Do you have anything to say in defense of the charges against you or not?”

“Sir, I have proof, evidence that the king _is_ indeed planning to wipe out Misthaven, as well as evidence that is manipulating this entire kingdom to go to war for him so he can steal lands that rightfully belong to others.”

He barely finished his sentence before the deafening noise overpowered him, the banging of the First Lord’s gavel lost in the roar of the crowd as they shouted to each other, to him, to the king, he couldn’t even tell which, his head was spinning so badly.  They may not have been guilty of desertion in the technical sense, but he knew he was now definitely defying the court’s order, and that was a punishable offense.  He was so nervous, shaking so violently he was sure his teeth were chattering audibly, but this was it, this was the end, their final moment.  He just needed to hold on for a little bit longer.

“We want to see the proof!” shouted a vice-admiral from one of the higher benches.

The crowd seemed to agree with him.

“Order!  We have warned you, Lieutenant, not to pursue this line of-”

“He’s accusing the king!  Let’s hear him out!” The cry rang out around the room, echoed by a few other officers interrupting the Admiral.  The king seemed just as scared as Killian felt, which he found oddly reassuring.  If James was scared, he was doing something right.  He felt for his pocket, for the gloved dreamshade that rested there, his other hand reaching blindly for Emma’s fingers, which he found immediately.  She squeezed his hand tightly, and he didn’t let go.

“The proof is here,” he called out, pulling the dreamshade from his pocket.  “Inside this glove is the most deadly poison in all the realms, known only to the three of us, and somehow, King James.  He intends to use this poison to kill everyone in Misthaven and claim it as his own.  Isn’t that right, Your Highness?”  He carefully shook the tiny branch of dreamshade onto the tabletop in front of him, the ominous thorns leaking a steady trickle of sticky blackness.

No one spoke, it seemed as if no one even breathed, they all looked at him and King James.  The king seemed as if he wanted to bolt from the room but, to his credit, he stayed put.  He coughed slightly, then addressed Killian directly.

“You’re sadly mistaken, Lieutenant.  That is a medicine, an herb we wished to use to bolster our own army, to save company men from dying in battle.”

A low murmur started up again, and all but disappeared when Killian responded.  “With all due respect, Your Majesty, if that were true, perhaps you’d like to demonstrate it on yourself?”

James went white.  The room was silent, everyone watching, waiting, wondering what would happen next.

The king forced out a laugh.

“That’s a tiny branch, Lieutenant.  Do you really think we can kill an entire land with just one cutting of... whatever that may be?”

“No,” Killian said, holding tightly to Emma’s hand, borrowing her strength to keep going, for he had none of his own left anymore.  “You didn’t want the branch.  You were looking for something else, a way to find more.  But this particular type of poison is found only in one place, a place you cannot reach without a magic bean.  So you sent us searching for the one thing that could get you there, in order to have unlimited access to the dreamshade.”

Killian turned to Emma, who had already unclasped her cloak.  He reached between the linings and grasped the sail, pulling it hard to release it.  He turned back to the Board, to the King, Admirals, and officers who were watching him, their eyes wide, and he shook out the sail, unfolding it completely for all to see.  

A gasp went up in the crowd as the sail took flight, lifting higher and higher into the room, Killian’s hold on it all that was keeping it from flying away altogether.

“The Pegasus sail.”  He couldn’t help the smile on his face as he watched the crowd, everyone silent, eyes mesmerised by the mythical sail hovering in the middle of the courtroom.  The whispers started quietly, growing slowly in volume and number as more joined in.  They exclaimed in wonder at the sail’s existence, that it really _did_ fly, and then quickly turned to talk on the king’s action and intention.

“Silence!  SILENCE!” ordered the Admiral loudly, but no one heard him anymore, no one paid any attention to him.

“Why did you need the poison, Your Highness?”

“Just how many of them were you planning to kill?”

“We want answers!”

King James stood and slammed his hands down on the table.

“ORDER!” he shouted.

The room quieted, and Killian felt a nervous fluttering creep slowly up his belly into his chest.  He tugged the sail, pulling it in and wrapping it in his arms as it slowly settled to the ground.

“It was a last resort!” the king shouted.  “It was to end this war!  Is this what you want, to keep fighting an enemy that doesn’t give up?  To lose soldiers, sailors, our men, our people, to their war?  The poison was meant to stop them, to stop the fighting, to save our land!”

“Not like this!” Killian yelled back.  “We fight our enemies, but we fight fair!”  He turned to the crowd, no longer addressing King James.  “Serving this king, fighting his wars, that is the way of dishonour, that’s _not_ what we signed up for when we joined the Navy, none of us!”  He was shouting to the captains in the gallery, the vice-admirals and admirals of the dais, anyone who would listen.  “This king is corrupt and immoral, and I, for one, will not stand for it.  The time has come for James to answer for his crimes!”

Chaos erupted just then, captains and officers stormed the court, calling for the arrest of the king, the admirals on the board, and other high ranking officers of the armed forces.  Killian sank back exhausted, barely able to stand as he watched.  Emma and Liam moved beside him, their hands holding him up.  All the energy and strength he’d forced himself to fake had gone into his speech, and now he was left with nothing.

“You did it, Killian,” Emma said in his ear.  “You did it.”

He couldn’t answer, didn’t know what to say even if he could, he just nodded weakly, his brother’s arm slipping under his as he nearly collapsed under his own weight.  “Let’s go, brother,” Liam said softly, his voice still hoarse.

Somehow, they made it outside, somehow they managed to grab a set of keys from one of the guards and free themselves of their shackles, and somehow they found horses unattended outside, the events just blurred in the periphery of Killian’s awareness.  Liam helped him mount, but he was too tired to sit up on his own.  He vaguely felt Emma climb on in front of him, barely heard her call out, “hold on,” before they were off, his hand looped tightly around her waist, his head resting against her shoulder.  He didn’t know how far they rode, he didn’t know how long it was, but eventually they came to a stop somewhere in the forest, his brother’s arms helping him off the horse to sit on the ground, propping him up against a fallen log.

“Killian?” Liam whispered, his hand lightly tapping his face.

He blinked up at him.  “It’s over, Liam,” he managed to force out.  He was so _weary_.

“Yes,” Liam replied with a smile.  “It’s over.  I’m proud of you, little brother.”

“Younger,” he whispered automatically, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“Younger,” agreed Liam.  “I need to get you cleaned up, Killian.”

He nodded, not really sure what that meant, not really sure of anything that was going on.  He vaguely felt his brother removing his shirt, something wet and cold sponging at his bruised chest.  He remembered gasping as a cloth was wrapped tightly around his broken ribs, the sharp pain of each breath softened somewhat by the added stability of the bandage.  He definitely didn’t remember remounting the horse, though somehow he must have, because when he next opened his eyes, it was night and they were in a new stretch of wood, a campfire burning low.  He was stretched out on a blanket, Emma’s fingers threading gently through his hair.

“Hey,” she murmured softly.  “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” he croaked.  “Where are we?”  He struggled to roll over, to sit up, but every movement sent shocks of pain through his chest and his head reeling.

“Lie still,” she said.  “We’re almost at my parent’s castle, in Misthaven.”  A cup was brought to his lips and he managed to sip some cool water from it before lying back.  He fell asleep almost immediately.

When he woke the next morning, Liam and Emma were nearly finished packing up.  He struggled to sit up, arm wrapped tightly against his bruised chest.

“Well, well, well,” Liam said, tying a bundle to his horse’s saddle, “look who finally decided to wake up.”

Emma just grinned as she sat beside him on the ground.  “Think you’re up to ride sitting up today?  We’re only a few hours away.”   _Ah, right,_ he remembered.  They were headed to Misthaven, to meet the King and Queen, her parents.  He was suddenly scared to meet them, the family of the woman who had so thoroughly stolen his heart.  What would he say?  What would they think of him?

He forced himself to smile back at her.  The throb in his head was mostly gone and, while his chest still hurt, it wasn’t that bad.  “Aye.”  She helped him to his feet.

Liam tossed him a knot of bread as he passed.  “Glad you’re awake, brother,” he said, his voice almost back to normal.

“Try not to get us lost, eh?” he smirked back.  “These vessels don’t run on ocean currents.”

“Actually, your Princess is captaining this trip,” Liam replied, pulling up onto his saddle.

Killian looked at Emma, who blushed as she sat astride the horse.  “Come on up, sailor,” she said, extending her hand to him.  “I’ll show you how it’s done.”  He laughed as he climbed up behind her, laughed again as her hair tickled his nose as he held her tightly.  It was over, the stress of the last few days were finally over, and they had managed to end a war in the meantime.  He had just talked down a _king,_ exposing his crimes for all to judge, and he was nervous about meeting her parents?

She twisted in her seat to look at him.  “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, love,” he said with a smile, kissing her cheek briefly.  “Nothing at all.  Shall we?”

They rode off toward Misthaven.

* * *

 

“And so, the two lands were once again reunited as one under King David and Queen Snow White.  King James chose exile over imprisonment, and he was banished to the far-off Southern Isles, never to return.  Liam Jones was promoted to Vice-Admiral of the Royal Navy for his service to both countries, and the younger Jones was given command of the _Jewel of the Realm_ in his new capacity as Captain.

“Princess Emma and the new Captain Jones were wed within the year, and soon had two wonderful children - a girl and a boy.  And they all lived happily ever after.  The end.”

Killian hugged the two children on his lap and then gently nudged them off the chair.  “Now into bed with you two,” he said.  The little ones bounded across the floor and slipped under their covers as he stood and went over to his son’s bed.

“What did you think of the story, little man?” he asked as he fixed the blanket around the boy’s shoulders.

The child yawned wide.  “It was ok, Papa,” he said sleepily, “but next time could you add in some pirates?  I like pirates.”

Killian laughed softly.  “Anything for you, my boy.”  He kissed the lad’s dark curls and stroked his cheek, then went across the room to his daughter.

“Papa, can I ask you a question?” she whispered, her blue eyes sparkling in the soft lamplight.

“Of course, m’lady.”  He sat on the bed beside her as she flashed him a bright smile.  She loved being referred to as a lady.

“Why did the Lieutenant trust the Princess in the first place?” she asked.  “I mean, she just hit him on the head.  Why would he even listen to her story?”

Killian looked up to the doorway where Emma had just arrived to say her goodnight to the children.  He smiled at her, and she to him, her beauty magnified somehow by the gentle swelling of her belly, where the newest little one grew.

He turned back to his daughter.

“Because,” he said with a grin, “it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Later, in their own room, the children sleeping soundly down the hall, Killian slipped behind Emma and wrapped his arms around her.  He nuzzled her ear, biting playfully as she rubbed her hands up and down his arms.  She turned her head to kiss him, and his mouth was ready for her.

“Think we should tell them that it’s a true story?” she asked into his cheek as they caught their breath.  Seven years together and her kiss still had the power to make him feel like that young Lieutenant again, awestruck and completely off balance, though he’d playfully argue that he’d managed to become quite experienced in the meantime.

“I think they’ll figure it out eventually,” he replied, “or maybe let Liam tell them when gets back next month.”  He ran his hands around the swell of her stomach, feeling light jumps and kicks beneath his palms.  It never failed to amuse him, being able to touch the movements of their unborn child.

She turned around then and reached her arms across his back, pulling him as close as she could with the littlest one intruding on their space.  He slid his hands to her sides, dropping his head to plant a line of kisses on her neck.

“Ever regret not turning in the _Yellow Beetle_ for prize money?” she murmured.  She moaned softly when he hit _that_ spot, where neck met shoulder.

Killian pulled back to look at her, and grinned.

“Not for a moment,” he said sincerely.  Her green eyes twinkled with her own smile.  “Besides,” he continued, “it was as I told you then. You're a far more valuable prize than that ship ever was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this story made you smile, made you gasp, made you feel anything at all, please send me a note and let me know. I'd love to hear from you. And thanks for sticking with me!


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